Learning Curves
by LadySilver
Summary: For four months, no one bothered to tell Lydia anything about what was going on in Beacon Hills. Now that she knows, she's determined to get some real answers.


_A/N: Written for amathela as part of shipswap on LJ, based on the prompt: Scott/Lydia, makeouts._

**Learning Curves**

by LadySilver

"Hold still," Lydia snapped. "We're almost done."

Scott grumbled and let his arm relax in his grip just long enough for her to get the tape measure extended, then yanked it back. "This is stupid." He indicated the tape measure in her hand, and the bag full of vials and instrumentation she planned to spend the afternoon employing on him. "You said you wanted me to tell you about werewolves."

Lydia arched an eyebrow at him, not at all amused with his sudden reticence. "I _said_," she corrected, "that I wanted to _know_ everything about werewolves. And since you're a werewolf, that means I want to know everything about you. That includes-" She tapped the end of the tape measure against her lips- "Well, everything. So stick your arm out and hold still."

Reluctantly, Scott complied. The black tank top he wore displayed his arms to excellent advantage, and Lydia had to take a moment to catch her breath at the beauty of all that lean muscle before she could proceed with getting some basic numbers. Arms, legs, chest. Scott pulled away again before she got to his abdomen and stalked over to stare out his bedroom window.

Scott's house was quiet with the peace of late-afternoon. The sun light diffused through the slates of his room's blinds, softening everything it touched. For a second, she thought she glimpsed a sheen of tears in his eyes, then he blinked and it was gone.

Lydia let the tape measure roll up and wrote the numbers she'd been able to get into a small notebook before setting both the measure and the notebook aside. "This would go a lot faster if you wouldn't keep interrupting," she pointed out.

"What difference does it make?" Scott answered. He parted two of the slates and peered outside. Something he saw through the gap that made him sigh and slump his shoulders. "Finding out how tall I am and how much I can bench press isn't going to tell you anything about werewolves."

"When one is doing research, one needs accurate information," Lydia explained. Again. "Without a solid foundation, any new information learned is suspect, at best. Considering that all the 'information' that's already out there is only fairytales and garbage, there's nothing to build on. So, we start with the basics."

"Here's a basic for you," Scott said. "It's going to be a full moon tomorrow." He parted the blinds again, and this time Lydia caught a glimpse of the pale moon hanging low in the sky.

"So what?" Lydia asked. She'd done her background research thoroughly, because she wouldn't do any other kind, so she knew what significance pop-culture assigned to the full moon, but she also knew: "The full moon being an agent of transformation didn't even _enter _the mythology until the 1920s, and then only because it allowed for dramatic symbolism that was easily captured on film. Besides," she continued, "my birthday party was on a full moon and I saw you there, very much not wolfed out."

"That was different," Scott answered. "Everything was different." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, his gaze turned inward on a memory that Lydia couldn't share with him.

"Different how?"

He considered her question for a long moment, then shook his head. "I had things under control then. I knew how to keep the moon from affecting me so much, and … I don't have that anymore." He lifted his hands as if to say more, then dropped them, his fingers curling into fists and retreated from the window.

"Allison," she said with a commiserating nod. She brushed a loose lock of hair off her face and thought about the phone in purse that hadn't so much as buzzed once in the week since her best friend had left the country. "I miss her, too," she said. "It's hard to lose someone you care about."

She wanted to pursue the full moon topic, since Scott was clearly invested in the idea way beyond what one should give a superstition, but the way he stood, the expression on his face, took her back to another day when he'd been hurting from having his heart broken. That day had included some hot-and-heavy making out in Coach's office and Lydia's revelation that Scott was a _fantastic _kisser. They'd never followed-up on that experience either, and suddenly that seemed to be a lot more scientifically interesting.

"You know," she offered, tilting her head to one side, "I find that when I'm upset, it helps to seek out a distraction." Sidling closer, she propped a hand on one hip and projected her best sex appeal.

Scott's nostrils flared and he swallowed hard. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "What- What kind of distraction?"

"The kind," she answered, "that comes with no strings attached." A shift in her stance let the front of her white blouse flare open just a little wider. As expected, Scott's attention landed on the exposed skin and his breath caught.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the effort of his internal struggle showing in the tightened lines of muscle along his forearms. "Just a one time thing?"

"Well, a two time thing. Technically," Lydia answered. And maybe a three or four time thing, if this one went as well as the first time. She saw no reason to discard a willing playmate. A surge of heat ran through her body at the direction of her thoughts. Lydia took a step forward and the gap between them closed in a physical echo of that earlier encounter. "We haven't done this in awhile," she murmured, touching his cheek with her fingers. The warmth of his breath gusted over her face.

"We shouldn't do this now," Scott answered. His eyelids dipped closed and he shuddered like he was fighting for control. His pulse thrummed through her fingertips.

Lydia felt no such need for constraint. "Why not?" She let her chin tip up and lips part. Her other hand slipped behind Scott's back and settled into the curve above his ass. "You're single. I'm single."

His nostrils flared and a second, harder shudder ran down his torso. "Because," he protested weakly, ignoring both her simple facts.

"Stiles doesn't have any claim on me," she reminded him. "Besides, I'm a big girl, and you're a big-" She tightened the hand on his back, letting her nails bite through his shirt just a little-"bad-" and smiled- "wolf." She flashed a satisfied smile at him, because some lines were too good to let go to waste.

Scott made a noise that could have been more protest in the back of his throat and Lydia ghosted her lips over his to stop him from forming words. He could have pulled back then, if he really wanted to, and she would have let him go. Not that she wouldn't have been disappointed, but it was one thing to be assertive and another to force herself where she wasn't wanted.

Scott's mouth found hers with a surprising gentleness. His lips were soft, their touch questioning, yet open to whatever answer she wanted to give.

The last time, their kiss had had a desperation, a _hunger,_ to it. Lydia has sensed a shift in the school's power balance and had gone after it. Today she left aside her need to win and went with the moment.

She squeaked as he scooped her up, and draped her arms and legs around him for balance. He held her so effortlessly, without even the support of the wall or a convenient piece of furniture, that gave her new understanding of how strong he really was. She gave a little wiggle. Against her inner thigh, she felt the growing pressure of his hardness, and wiggled again. He groaned deep within his chest.

Her mouth opened, and his was right there with her. She tasted the peanut butter he'd eaten for lunch and a crisp tartness of apple. His tongue found hers, met it, and probed further for her flavors. Lydia felt her breath grow shorter, her body grow warmer. She could take this all the way, if he would let her. Yet, a part of her sensed that he wasn't ready for that. So, she dove further into the kiss, into tasting him, trying to out-anticipate where his lips would be, how his tongue would move, and finding that she couldn't.

Scott tilted his head, and Lydia obeyed the silent request to expand her explorations. She kissed down his jawline, then dropped lower and traced the line of his collarbone with swirls of her tongue. His skin had a faint taste of salt that spoke of the summer heat and she sought to take in as much as she could find. She felt his Adam's apple bob against her forehead and his grip shift so that he was now holding her with only one arm while the other hand came up to cup the back of her head.

She dropped her legs and he let go. Lydia's feet found the floor with a soft clunk. Scott followed her down, his mouth finding hers again before she'd had a chance to mourn the absence of contact. Their speed picked up and a wildness entered their kisses. Lydia's whole body burned with the need to be touched, to touch, to find out everything she could.

Pulling away for a moment, she took in the boy before her. His eyes were bright with lust, his face slackened. Smears of her lipstick darkened his mouth and left tracks on his cheeks. Nothing in what she saw gave away his true nature. "Are you distracted yet?" she asked.

Scott heaved a breath that was a visible effort to collect himself. "Getting there."

Lydia nodded, opened another button on her blouse, and paused again to consider her next move. She liked kissing, and she especially liked when kissing could be _the_ activity instead of just the prelude to be dispensed with as quickly as possible. But, kissing could be a lot more interesting than most people were willing to discover. With a push, she sat Scott down on the end of the bed and crawled onto his lap.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"There's something I want to try," she whispered into his ear. "Now, hold still."


End file.
